Premonition
by Shellie Williams
Summary: When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can’t shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?
1. Chapter 1

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Part One ~**

Ducky walked into the morgue and headed straight for his desk. Immediately, he sensed another presence in the room. Only a few people would be here in the dark, waiting for him, staying silent until their discovery. He ran through the names briefly, and then concluded who his visitor was. "Jethro? Was there something you wanted?" He turned. Gibbs moved out of the shadows into the soft glow cast by Ducky's desk lamp.

Instead of answering, Gibbs shook his head. His mouth opened, as if he were about to speak, then he pressed his lips together and looked away.

Knowing better than to pry, Ducky instead reached into his desk for the two glasses and bottle of bourbon he kept there. He set them on his desk and poured a small amount. After offering Gibbs one, he took a sip of his own and leaned back against the wall. "Something on your mind?"

Gibbs shook his head again, as if unable to believe what he was about to say. "Been having some strange dreams lately, Duck."

Despite the myriad comments that sprung to mind on the subject, Ducky remained quiet.

"Dreams that someone -- that one of my team is in danger."

"Do you have any evidence that they are in danger? Or is this one from the famous Gibbs' gut?"

Another head shake. "I don't know. Yes, maybe. I've dreamed about cases – real cases that we've had in the past, only things happen differently and instead, someone ends up dead."

"Dreams are sometimes a manifestation of our thoughts and worries. You're projecting your own anxiety into your dreams, Jethro. You've been under a lot of stress lately with the Jenson case, and you're letting that monster invade your dreams."

Gibbs put his glass down on Ducky's desk and rubbed his fingers across his eyes. "Maybe you're right."

"I can prescribe something, if you need help sleeping."

"No, no." Gibbs finally looked at Ducky. "That won't be necessary, Duck, thanks. What I really need is to catch this bastard. Then we can all sleep." He touched one finger to the bottle of bourbon. "Thanks." One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, and he left.

Ducky stood still by his desk for several long minutes after Gibbs left. He ran through the conversation in his head again and realized that Gibbs had left out one very important detail. _One of my team is in danger._

But who?


	2. Chapter 2

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Part Two ~**

"_Hey boss, hold on one second --"_

_In the underground parking garage, Gibbs held up his fist. Everyone slowed to a stop. He reached up to touch his earwig. "What do you got, McGee?"_

"_I'm not sure."_

_He waited a heartbeat of seconds before responding, a little impatiently. "Talk to me, McGee."_

_Shots fired and Gibbs reacted instantly. He shoved the SecNav into the car shouting, "Go, go, go! Get him out of here through the front entrance, Go, go, go, go!" Tires squealed on cement as Gibbs raced toward the area of gunfire. He drew his weapon and stopped at the corner, peering hard into the dark alley._

_A lone figure lay in a pool of streetlight, unmoving._

_No._

_Eyes searching the area, Gibbs moved forward. His steps brought him quickly to the body. He knelt, put his gun away, and gripped McGee's shoulder. The young man opened his eyes. His hand moved weakly, clutching at air. Gibbs grabbed it, curling his fingers around McGee's hand. Two bloody wounds marred McGee's chest. Gibbs knew the injuries were fatal. He knew there was nothing he could do._

_Bending over McGee, he gently slipped his hand beneath McGee's head. "You did good, Tim. I'm proud of you, son."_

_McGee's eyes blinked. A tear traced its way down the side of his face. His lips trembled. Gibbs imagined he saw a smile, then McGee's eyes closed and he died._

Gibbs woke abruptly, sitting up and throwing his blanket to the floor. He couldn't catch his breath. He stood up, stumbled, and caught himself against the wall. _No. That's not what happened. He didn't die._ The nightmare clung to him, leaving vestiges of horror behind. He walked slowly to the kitchen and retrieved a beer from the 'fridge.

Returning to the couch, Gibbs took a long drink and then sat to catch his breath. That was the second nightmare he'd had of McGee dying. Both nightmares had been from past cases; the first had been when McGee fell off the roof when he and Kate had searched the Chief of Naval Operations house for clues as to who had kidnapped his wife and daughter, only to find out Watson himself had been the culprit.

McGee had broken his neck when he hit the ground. The memory of that image pushed him to his feet again. Gibbs started pacing the length of his living room. He wasn't someone who believed in coincidences, and up till now, he hadn't been superstitious, either. But the niggling worry that his gut was trying to tell him something wouldn't let him rest.

Tim McGee was in danger.


	3. Chapter 3

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Part Three ~**

Tony stood to one side of the living room, sketching in details of the crime scene. While his attention appeared to be focused on his job, his eyes flickered from his page to Gibbs and back again. Tony's spidey senses were literally vibrating with urgency. Like an old football injury warning of a coming storm, he felt something brewing. Gibbs had snapped, snarled, and very nearly bitten off everyone's head this morning. Something was off with the boss.

"_McGee!"_

There it was again; the feral growl warning of an impending attack.

"Yeah, boss?" Eager as a boy scout helping an old lady across the street, McGee scrambled to his feet and waited for orders.

Gibbs looked away, eyes scanning the room. "Dust for prints around the back door and window."

"But I --"

Tony grimaced in sympathy. _Don't argue, Probie, can't you read the signs?_

"Now, McGee."

"Yes, boss." McGee hopped to, grabbing the dusting kit and more gloves. As he rounded Tony, he grumbled under his breath, "What's got him so pissed off this morning?"

Tony answered sotto voce: "It's probably your fault, Probie."

"_Tony!"_

McGee hurried out of the room at the same time Tony's attention snapped from his book to his boss. "Yeah, boss."

"You gonna take all day? Get finished and help Ziva process."

"On it, boss." Flipping his notebook closed, Tony slid it into his pocket and reached for some bags. Gibbs stalked out of the room, heading for the back door. Tony winced when he heard him barking instructions at McGee. "Gibbs is not having a good day."

Ziva didn't look up to acknowledge the comment. She kept her hands busy and her voice low, like Tony. "Cleaning up another murder scene from a man we cannot catch might have something to do with it, Tony. Gibbs wants Jenson."

"It's more than that, I think." Tony knelt beside her and carefully transferred some fibers from the carpet into a bag. After writing information on the plastic, he sealed it shut. "He arrived in a foul mood this morning and it's gotten worse ever since."

"You think something other than the case is on his mind?"

"Could be."

Gibbs' voice could be heard clearly from the back of the house. Ziva glanced that way before resuming her work.

"Apparently McGee has done something to incur most of Gibbs' wrath."

Tony shrugged. "He seemed just as in the dark this morning as you and me. He told me – head's up, here he comes." Tony shifted to his feet and gathered several evidence bags just as Gibbs entered the room. "Just about finished here, Boss, I'll --"

But Gibbs kept on walking and left the house without replying to Tony's comment. McGee followed shortly, face tense with strain.

"Where are _you_ going?"

McGee barely glanced at Tony before taking the same path out the front door. "Back to NCIS. Gibbs wants me to help Abby with something." And he was gone.

Tony looked at Ziva and saw the same confusion he felt mirrored back at him. "He's sending McGeek back to help Abby in the middle of a murder crime scene?"

Gibbs chose that moment to return. "Is there a problem, DiNozzo?"

"No, Boss." Exchanging one last look with Ziva, Tony got back to work. Even if McGee couldn't read the signs, _he_ certainly could. When Gibbs was in this kind of mood you stayed out of his way, did your job, and tried as hard as possible _not_ to get his attention. Still, with the pile of evidence growing, and Jenson seemingly becoming more and more elusive, he would think that every hand would be needed to process the crime scenes. Sending McGee off to tend to an errand that could be taken care of later, after their work was done here, bordered on inefficiency, which was not a term usually associated with Gibbs.

Tony felt it in his gut that something other than finding Jenson was bothering Gibbs. He'd just have to wait for the right moment and find out.

"Tony!"

That moment was _not_ right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Part Four ~**

Though Ducky's head was bent over the cadaver, he cut his eyes up to observe Gibbs. The object of his attention had a slight frown on his face, as if concentrating very hard on the incisions in the body.

"You find me more interesting than the body, Doctor?"

Chagrinned at being caught, Ducky flinched and brought his attention back to the gory business at hand. He chose to ignore Gibbs' question. "Our Lieutenant Bretford died in the same grisly fashion as all of the previous victims, Jethro. With the exception of one detail."

Holding his scalpel, Ducky mimicked sliding the blade across his throat. "While Petty Officer Pikes and Lieutenant Attwood had their throats cut from behind, Bretford's throat was sliced with the murderer facing him." He gestured at Bretford's body. "Our two previous victims had copious amounts of blood on the front of their clothing, indicating their throats had been cut first, before the secondary stab wounds to their torso and abdomen."

"Bretford was stabbed first, then his throat cut."

"Precisely, Jethro. But the end results are the same."

Gibbs nodded grimly. "How long would you say Bretford lived before his throat was cut?"

Ducky shrugged with his eyebrows. "I'd say at least an hour, maybe more. The poor fellow would have suffered excruciating pain before bleeding out. His throat was cut _after_ he died. See here?" He pointed at the gaping wound. "The skin here appears almost to have a Styrofoam quality, and there was almost no bleeding from the wound, indicating the heart had already stopped pumping by the time this was inflicted." He drew back from the body, a pensive look on his face. "But _why_ would he change the order in which he injures his victims?"

"He wants to watch them suffer."

Ducky's eyes cut to Gibbs. "Ah, yes. He's found that slicing their throats first kills them almost instantly, and there's not enough life left in them for a reaction when he stabs them --" He thrust his scalpel forward dramatically "-- in the abdomen."

Gibbs shook his head and turned to leave. "He's one sick bastard."

"Have you found a connection between the victims?"

Gibbs didn't slow down. "Tony and Ziva are working on that now."

"Jethro! Wait!"

At the automatic doors, Gibbs stopped and turned, keeping his hand against the edge to keep the way open. "What?"

"How's that other problem we talked about?"

"It's fine, Duck." He released the doors and left.

Ducky sighed and returned to his table. "Between you and me, Lieutenant, I don't believe he's being exactly honest with himself. Something's bothering him, I can tell. Now, let's see if we can get you cleaned up."


	5. Chapter 5

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Part Five ~**

He waited behind the door, breath held in anticipation. Stewart Frazier was number four on his list. His rapidly dwindling list. NCIS couldn't seem to catch up. The thought brought a smile to his face. Frazier would bring him to the halfway point. He was so close; so close to shutting the door and finishing everything. Then he could rest.

A slight scrape of metal against metal signaled a key in the door. The knob turned and Frazier walked into his apartment. So calm, so unknowing, so sure that he was safe. He wasn't a big man, but with a marine, you couldn't judge by size. Grit and determination had been bred into him.

He tightened his grip around his knife, forcing his breathing to remain even. Frazier turned to face his hiding place. He took that as his cue.

Jenson burst from behind the door quickly, but didn't yell. No need to disturb the neighbors. He rammed Frazier into the wall, forearm shoved hard against his throat. With surprise still registered on Frazier's face, Jenson thrust his knife brutally into his stomach. Frazier's mouth opened wide, showing rows of pretty white teeth. Jenson smiled and withdrew his weapon. He stepped back to watch. Frazier's hands lifted to press against his wound. Blood oozed out between his fingers, running down his shirt, saturating the material. He collapsed to his knees.

Jenson waited until Frazier sat back on his heels, then moved closer. Fisting Frazier's shirt at the shoulders, Jenson pulled him up. A small, guttural cry strained out of Frazier's mouth. Jenson smiled. When he had Frazier propped against the wall, he pulled his arm back, prepared to sink the blade a second time into his victim, but Frazier surprised him. The smaller man brought his knee up into Jenson's groin. Hot pain electrified through his limbs and he dropped the knife. Frazier pushed him away and turned for the door.

Anger and the irrational belief that he'd been wronged exploded through Jenson. Growling, he dove for Frazier and tackled him. Frazier jacked his elbow back into Jenson's face. His cheekbone erupted with pain. _Enough!_ Twisting Frazier around, Jenson drove the knife deep into Frazier's gut. He shoved the blade hard, forcibly drilling into Frazier's belly. Frazier's body stiffened. He clasped both hands around Jenson's fist. Abruptly, he exhaled loudly and collapsed loose and pliable beneath Jenson. His head folded back on his neck. Sightless eyes stared at the ceiling. Blood snaked out of the corner his mouth and threaded across his face.

Jenson shifted off of Frazier and stood. Heavy breathing lifted his chest. He reached and touched just below his eye, then checked his fingertips. No blood, so Frazier's surprise elbow punch hadn't broken the skin. Still, Jenson was angry. He'd killed Frazier quicker than he'd intended. Frazier had fought back and forced his hand. Irritated, Jenson knelt beside Frazier and pressed his knife against his throat. With one quick, swift stroke, he slit the skin. Despite the struggle, Frazier was still dead. That thought cheered Jenson and by the time he stood, the smile was back on his face.

Four down. Three more to go, and all of them civilians. Easy as taking candy from a baby.


	6. Chapter 6

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Part Six ~**

The dim lighting of the surrounding area accentuated the blue glow from McGee's computer. He sat leaning close, reading the facts and figures scrolling across his screen. Numbers and letters merged and melded together, sharp edges blurred into grey nothingness. McGee blinked and shifted back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could wipe the soreness and weariness away. He felt like he was just on the cusp of finding the connection they needed between Jenson's victims.

A snore from across the office brought his head up. Tony sat with his feet propped on his desk, head thrown back, mouth wide open. McGee thought briefly about taking a picture with his phone, but the thought of getting up and walking over there seemed like too much work. He knew Ziva was camped out downstairs with Abby on the futon. None of them had gotten much rest since the first murder, five days ago.

He glanced at Gibbs, also asleep at his desk. He was propped in a position similar to Tony, but at least his mouth was shut. For just a moment, McGee mused about the weird feeling he had this week. It was as if Gibbs was keeping him close by. Even as he thought it, he dismissed it, realizing how odd it sounded. Why in the world would Gibbs need to keep him close? In case his phone or computer crashed? Grinning at his inane idea, McGee bent back over his keyboard.

Meanwhile, Gibbs drifted deep into sleep.

_McGee's voice spoke in his ear. "Okay, one frequency down, two to go."_

_Gunfire cracked like fireworks down below on the street. Gibbs ignored it for the moment, hoping McGee could take care of himself._

_On the roof, Tony glanced over Gibbs' shoulder. "You know how to fly this thing?"_

"_No, but I know how to crash it." Gibbs opened fire on the transmitter. That was taken care of. "McGee, are you okay?"_

_Only static answered his question._

"_McGee!" Diving for the roof's edge, Gibbs felt Tony grab the back of his jacket as he leaned dangerously far into the open. "McGee!"_

_The young agent lay face up on the road, behind their car. His limbs splayed open, gun still clutched in one hand. A round bullet hole marred his forehead, and a red halo of blood spread across the concrete around his head._

"McGee!" Jerking away from the nightmare, Gibbs found Tim leaning over him, worry stamped across his face. He'd had another nightmare. Behind McGee, Tony's expression of surprise, quickly melting into awkward glee, no doubt amused with Gibbs waking up shouting McGee's name, sobered him quickly.

"Boss? Are you okay?"

Covering his unease, Gibbs sat up and scrubbed roughly across his face. Interjecting gruffness into his voice, Gibbs answered, "This had better be good, McGee."

"It is." Licking his lips, McGee stood back and waited until Gibbs looked at him. "I've found the connection between the victims."

He lifted the remote and brought up the pictures of the three previous victims: Petty Officer Steven Pikes, First Lieutenant Cecil Attwood, and Gunnery Sergeant Douglas Bretford."

"None of them have served together, or lived near enough to each other to use the same dry cleaners, restaurants, or banks." He nodded toward the screen. "Pikes never set foot off of U.S. soil, Attwood served in Iraq last year, while Bretford was in Afghanistan this year."

"Old news, McGee. What have you found?"

McGee clicked a button and several papers of information appeared on the plasma. "I even checked their high school records to see if they grew up near each other, but they didn't. Besides, with the differences in their ages, none of them would have been in high school together, anyway."

"McGee."

The warning tone quickly brought McGee's explanation to a close. "These men do not have a connection with each other, but --" three clicks brought up three smaller, older pictures, each overlapping a corner of the larger pictures of the victims " – their fathers, do. Jenson's father, Roy Ellis Jenson, served with seven other men during Desert Storm. Jenson's father was killed, but all of the other seven made it out alive."

"So? – What? He's killing the sons of these men because they made it out alive and his father didn't?"

McGee glanced at Tony. "No, I don't think it's that simple. When Jenson was found by his squad, he'd been shot in the stomach, and his throat was cut. According to the account I read, written by Bretford's father, Jenson made the decision to enter a hostile zone, unassisted. Later, when reinforcements arrived, the rest of Jenson's squad went in and found Jenson dead. Jenson's actions were found to be negligent, and as a result, his family received no benefits or retirement pay."

"He blames them for his father's death."

McGee nodded. "There's more, Boss. Jenson's mother died about five years later, cirrhosis of the liver."

"She drank herself to death."

"So he blames them for his mother's death, too."

Gibbs stood and circled his desk to stand beside McGee and look at the screen. "Do you have the names of the other men in Jenson's squad?"

"Got it right here." He indicated a small piece of paper in his hand. "Stewart Frazier is on leave and has an apartment close by in Fairmount Heights. The other three are civilians now. I've got their addresses."

"Good work, McGee." Gibbs grabbed the paper and hurried back to his desk to get his gun. "Tony, get the truck. McGee, go get Ziva and meet us there."

"You think Jenson's already found Frazier?"

"Only one way to find out. Let's go." For a moment, a grisly, bloody picture of McGee flashed through Gibbs' mind. He blinked and it was gone. There was no reason to keep McGee here; all the records had been studied and scrutinized. Besides, McGee had found the link. Finding an excuse to leave him behind might raise his suspicions, and Gibbs didn't want that. Best just to keep him nearby.

As the elevator closed, Gibbs pressed his lips together in silent determination. The memory of dreaming of Kate's death would never leave him. He'd always wonder if he'd taken it seriously and protected her better, if she'd still be alive today. He wasn't going to make that mistake twice. McGee wouldn't be killed on his watch. Not if he could help it. He intended to do everything in his power to keep it from happening.


	7. Chapter 7

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Part Seven ~**

Tony knocked on Frazier's apartment door. "NCIS!"

After a moment of silence, Tony looked at Gibbs. Off his signal, Tony tried the door. It opened. Wariness swept through the team and heightened their awareness. Gibbs nodded and Tony rushed inside. There was a body, covered in blood, just inside the entrance. With difficulty, Tony ignored the grisly scene and moved forward into the apartment. The others fanned out behind him. Each one called out the 'clear' signal, and they all gathered around the body. Despite the obvious smell of death, McGee knelt and checked for a pulse.

"He's dead."

McGee nodded with Ziva's painfully obvious observation. He stood and put away his gun. "Looks like he was stabbed and his throat slashed, just like the others."

"Is that Frazier?"

"Yeah. He matches the picture on Fraizer's driver's license." McGee sighed. "We're too late. He probably knows where the others live, and may have gotten to them, too."

"Not if I can help it. Ziva, call Ducky. We need some local LEOs to secure the scene until another team can get here."

Gibbs pulled a piece of paper from his pocket as Ziva made the call. He carefully tore the paper in two and handed one piece to Tony. "You and Ziva check out the last two names on the list, I'll take McGee for this one. Tony --" He waited until Tony turned to face him. "Don't take any chances; if you think Jenson's there, call and wait for backup. Don't go in by yourself." Tony nodded and waited for Ziva to get off the phone. "As soon as reinforcements arrive, you two get to those addresses. McGee, you're with me." Making sure McGee followed, Gibbs left.

~*~

The only name on their list, Truman Nichols, lived nearly an hour away. Tim spent the time looking up information and relaying it to Gibbs. The older man remained quiet through most of the trip, grunting now and then when more pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

They arrived at a ranch style home in a rural suburban area. Somehow, nature had pulled herself together and managed to hold onto a small piece of land, complete with enough trees to hide the background of the surrounding busy metropolis. Late evening sun floated just above the horizon, as if loath to leave for the day.

Gibbs parked at the curb. McGee got out and started around the side of the house.

"Stay with me, McGee."

Surprised, but knowing that now wasn't the time to question, McGee detoured and fell in behind Gibbs. The street was eerily quiet, as if the houses were holding their breath. McGee glanced over his shoulder, unable to shake the feeling of neighbors hiding behind curtains, watching them.

Two vehicles were parked in the driveway; one had a local license plate, the other was from Maryland. _Jenson._

"Boss." McGee waited until Gibbs twisted his neck to look at him, then jerked his chin toward the car. "Maryland plates: He's here."

Gibbs nodded, then refocused on the house. McGee remembered what Gibbs had told Tony: _"Don't take any chances; if you think Jenson's there, call and wait for backup. Don't go in by yourself."_ But here they were, walking into the lion's den.

"Boss, you want me to --?"

Gibbs snapped his hand up, signaling for quiet. He crouched low as he approached the front door. Someone from inside the house yelled. That seemed to be the trigger Gibbs was waiting for. "Go! Go!"

Without hesitation, McGee kicked the door open. A small foyer opened into a larger hall. Seeing no one, McGee flattened himself against the wall and covered Gibbs as he moved past him. No lights were on, and in the gathering dusk, details were beginning to blur and shadow into gray. Gibbs stopped at a corner. Tim took his cue and shifted forward, overlapping Gibbs' position and moving deeper into the house. An open staircase, set against the wall, beckoned them to the second floor.

A groan froze McGee in his tracks and lifted the hairs on the back of his neck. He opened his eyes as wide as he could, wishing he could see better. Gibbs hurried by, heading up the stairs. He stopped at a small landing and planted his back against the adjoining walls, aiming his gun toward the next level. McGee whispered past. Even though he knew Gibbs had his back, a horrible feeling of vulnerability crept up his spine. He made it to the second floor without incident. Another wide hallway revealed two closed doors and an open alcove at the other end. He turned to ask Gibbs if he'd heard the moan, but fear stole his voice when Jenson seemed to materialize out of the darkness behind Gibbs.

The surprised horror on his face must have been enough warning. Gibbs twisted, gun raised, but Jenson had already swung back for a punch. He struck Gibbs and sent him tumbling back down the stairs. Afraid of accidently shooting Gibbs, McGee's hesitation cost him. Jenson's fist crashed against his head, slamming him hard into the wall. His bones melted and McGee collapsed to the floor. Darkness grew, rolling as inevitable as a tide into his brain. The last grey of light managed to catch the shiny edge of a blade in Jenson's hand as he bent over McGee. Then he knew nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Part Eight ~**

_Gibbs hurried quietly down the dimly lit hallway with McGee close behind. He heard a voice in the room ahead: "You don't know it yet, but your partner's in danger."_

_What the hell? The hall ended and opened into a rather lavish sitting room. A young man stood with his gun pointed at Abby. Dressed in a cotton nightgown and frilly nightcap, Abby appeared to have just woken up from a long winter's nap._

_Surprise registered in McGee's voice. "Landon?" He paused, then, "Landon, what are you doing?"_

"_I'm protecting you."_

"_McGee, who is this guy?" Abby's question trembled with fear._

_McGee moved slowly into the room. "He's a friend."_

_Landon saw McGee moving closer. "Don't!"_

_Gibbs wanted to stop McGee, but he couldn't take his eyes off Landon, afraid the kid would shoot Abby._

"_I have to do this!" Abby flinched when Landon yelled._

"_Landon, she's not going to hurt me." McGee continued moving closer. Gibbs grit his teeth to keep from pulling McGee back. "It's just a book. It's not --"_

"_Finished yet." Come on, McGee, can't you see this guy's lost it? Using reality to convince him to put down his weapon wasn't going to work. Gibbs watched Landon's eyes and saw hesitation. "Tell him the ending, Agent McGregor. Tell him what happens."_

_Finally catching on, McGee slowly put his gun away. "It's not what you think, Landon." McGee walked into the middle of the room. Gibbs tightened his grip on his weapon. "Amy and I – Amy and I get married."_

"_You marry – her?"_

_There was no signal, or tick. He didn't telegraph his movements or yell. Without any announcement or warning, Landon shot McGee in the chest._

"_No!"_

Long hours of training kept him from shouting when he woke. That and instinct held him in place. He lay curled on his side. A quick inventory made him aware that his wrists were bound behind him, but his ankles were free. Small favors. A man's voice focused his attention. Despite the danger of revealing to the enemy that he was awake, one thought made keeping his eyes closed nearly impossible: _McGee!_

"Won't be long now. I'll be finished and this will all be over."

_Jenson. How the hell did he get the jump on me like that?_

"You'll all be dead --" He voice changed, straining a little as if he were lifting something "-- and the price will be paid."

A hoarse cry sounded. _McGee._ Gibbs allowed his eyes to slit open, but kept his breathing even.

"No! I'm not who you think I am." McGee's voice thinned with fear.

Gibbs saw McGee struggle to pull away from Jenson. The older man held McGee against the wall by the throat. He braced a large knife beneath McGee's chin, poised to slice through his neck. _Oh god._

"Jenson!"

Gibbs' yell distracted Jenson, but when McGee tried to take advantage of his loosened hold and break away, Jenson punched him, hard, across the jaw. McGee bounced against the wall, then folded to the floor. Jenson crouched down on one knee and fisted the front of McGee's shirt near his throat. He pulled his upper body from the floor and placed the knife against his arched throat.

"Jenson, wait!" Gibbs kept his eyes glued on Jenson, because the image of McGee, head thrown back, arms wide open, chest arched, completely vulnerable with a knife at his throat, sent a feeling of protectiveness through him so fierce, it nearly stole his breath and he couldn't think.

"I can't. I have to do this. He told me to kill them all, so the price would be paid and he could rest in peace." He looked down at McGee. "They all have to die."

"Not him. He's not one of the sons."

Confusion twisted Jenson's mouth. He released McGee and Gibbs flinched when the young man's skull bounced against the floor. At least that knife wasn't at his throat anymore.

"He isn't?"

"No." Gibbs tested his bonds. Various aches and pains began pinging for attention all over his body, reminding him that he's just taken a dive down a flight of stairs. "He's my son, and I didn't serve with your father in Desert Storm."

"_Your_ son? Why are you here?" Jenson stepped over McGee and moved toward Gibbs. That's exactly what Gibbs wanted.

"I came to tell you where you could find the other two: Morrison and Talley."

Jenson grinned. He sank to his haunches beside Gibbs. "I know where they are."

Something about the way he said it led Gibbs to believe the two men were already dead.

"Then they're all gone – you're finished. You did what your father told you to do."

Jenson stood back up. "No. No, not until he's dead." With two steps he reached McGee.

"No! Jenson – _don't!_"

Despite Gibbs' best efforts, he couldn't break through the ropes. He couldn't move across the room and shield McGee; he couldn't save him. Horror nearly pealed sanity away as he watched Jenson pull McGee from the floor. McGee wobbled, unable to regain his balance, not understanding what was happening to him. With a small, quick jab, Jenson forced the knife into McGee's abdomen and pulled it back out. He let go, and McGee crashed to the floor.

"McGee!"

He didn't seem to hear Gibbs' anguished yell. McGee's eyes squeezed shut. He rolled to his side, both arms wrapped tight around his middle. A harsh cough tore through his body and blood splattered the floor near his mouth. His lips rolled back to reveal teeth clenched together in a tight grimace.

"_How long would you say Bretford lived before his throat was cut?"_

_Ducky shrugged with his eyebrows. "I'd say at least an hour, maybe more. The poor fellow would have suffered excruciating pain before bleeding out."_

Gibbs swallowed hard; a timer started in his head, an inexorable countdown of McGee's last hour.


	9. Chapter 9

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Part Nine ~**

Jenson backed away slowly until he hit the wall. He slid down nearly to the floor, resting on his haunches. Crossing his arms on his knees, he used the point of the knife to scratch a place behind his ear. "I like to watch."

_Oh my god._

McGee's legs moved weakly across the floor as he fought the pain. A breathy cry escaped his mouth, then a whisper: "Gibbs – help me."

Gibbs closed his eyes and thumped his head against the floor in agony. Jenson might as well have stabbed _him_ for all the pain thrumming through his body and spirit. He had to _do_ something. He opened his eyes. Jenson still sat hunched with his back against the wall. A small, terrible smile pulled on the corners of his lips. _Bastard._

Abruptly, Jenson turned to look at Gibbs. "You like to watch, too?" Shifting to his hands and knees, Jenson crawled across the floor to Gibbs. He pulled on his shoulder and rolled Gibbs to his stomach, then used his knife to cut the ropes.

Gibbs felt as if he were floundering in deep water. He couldn't read this guy; couldn't figure out his method or see what he was doing. All he could think to do was try to get Jenson to believe he was with him and agreed with what he was doing.

Even if he'd been able to escape the ropes, he wouldn't have been able to do anything else. His limbs were stiff and sore from the fall. His arms tingled as circulation returned. Allowing himself to be practically dragged, Gibbs found himself propped against the wall next to Jenson, watching McGee bleed to death.

"That's how he died, you know."

Gibbs immediately picked up on who Jenson was talking about. "I know." He listened, knowing he'd get his chance, but he kept his eyes on McGee. The blood staining the front of his shirt was spreading. McGee's breathing huffed fast and shallow through his chest. His eyes were closed and his forehead furrowed, as if he were in deep thought.

"They shot him, then they waited until he was almost dead before cut -- before cutting his throat."

Jenson surged up from the floor and moved toward McGee. Gibbs quietly braced himself against the wall and pushed himself up. His eyes traveled down Jenson's arm to his fingers, clenching and unclenching around the knife handle. From the corner of his vision he caught sight of a tall, ornate candle stand. He reached for it slowly, then hefted the weight comfortably in his hands, gripping the stand like a baseball bat.

Jenson knelt beside McGee. He pushed against McGee's shoulder, forcing him to his back and lifted the knife.

Gibbs swung with every ounce of strength he had, ignoring protesting muscles and bruised bones. The candle stand snapped in two when it impacted Jenson's skull. Jenson's body dove forward, falling across McGee. Gibbs shoved his legs off, scooped his arms under McGee's armpits and dragged him away. Incredibly, Jenson rolled to his side, fingers questing for the knife he'd dropped.

Doing a quick visual sweep, Gibbs looked for his weapon. He lowered McGee gently to the floor and took a stance in front of him, blocking him from Jenson. Jenson staggered to his feet drunkenly. A gory red ribbon slid along the side of his neck, wrapping around to run down his chest. Grey smudgy shadows circled his eyes, making them appear shrunken into his skull. A trickle of black blood dripped from his nose. He seemed not to notice. "I need to finish." Bloody bubbles formed at the corners of his mouth with his announcement.

Gibbs grimaced. "You're already dead, Jenson. You just don't know it yet."

"Not until I'm finished." Raising the knife above his head, Jenson sprang at Gibbs faster than should have been possible.

Gibbs crossed his arms above his head and caught Jenson's forearm. The blade tip quivered inches from his face. Gibbs kicked, catching Jenson above the knee. Jenson stumbled backward, but managed to stay on his feet.

Jenson charged him again. Gibbs caught the onslaught, but couldn't hold against the greater weight. Jenson swung a backhanded fist, catching Gibbs across his temple. He went tumbling across the room, finally sliding to a stop on his back on the hardwood floor. Jenson ignored him, reaching instead for McGee. Calculations added up instantly in Gibbs' head and he knew he'd never make it to McGee in time. Frantically, he looked around for something to throw. _There!_ A familiar dark shape peeking out from under a rug sent thrills of hope through him.

Like a runner diving for homeplate, Gibbs vaulted across the floor. Scooping up his gun and rolling to his back, Gibbs drew a bead on Jenson as accurately as a laser beam. He pulled the trigger just as Jenson's knife arrowed toward McGee. The force of the hit threw Jenson's body back in a wide arch. He dropped to the floor and didn't move again.

Breathing hard, Gibbs shifted to his feet without taking his eyes off Jenson. Keeping his gun ready, he bent to check for a pulse. The grey matter spread across the floor convinced him more than the clammy feel of cold skin at his fingertips that it was over.

Putting his gun away, Gibbs grabbed his phone from a side table and rushed back to McGee. How much time had passed since he'd been stabbed? Clumsy with weariness and fear, Gibbs managed to dial 911 and request an ambulance. He released the phone and dropped to his knees beside McGee.

"McGee -- McGee? Listen to me, Tim. It's over. You hear me?" Cupping McGee's face, Gibbs leaned in closer. "It's over."

McGee's eyes fluttered open. He didn't speak; one corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were trying to smile.

Gibbs nodded. That was enough, for now. He clasped McGee's wrist, finding the pulse point at the base of McGee's thumb. The thready beat kept time with his heart. When the first thin siren wails reached his ears, he closed his eyes and smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Part Ten ~**

Gibbs looked up when the Emergency Room doors opened. Tony and Ziva hurried to him.

"McGee?" Ziva arrived breathless at his side.

"He's hurt, but he's alive. They've taken him to surgery."

"Sorry, Boss. We got to Morrison's place and found a body. His neighbor was hysterical and it took nearly thirty minutes for the LEOs to get there because of traffic."

Gibbs cut in. "Jenson was at Nichols' place."

Tony stayed silent as Ziva walked away. As he watched her pour a cup of coffee it occurred to him: "Then the last name may still be --"

"Jenson got Talley, too."

"Damn it." Tony took off his cap and hit it against his thigh. "He got them all."

"No, he didn't get McGee."

"But McGee wasn't one of his --"

"He thought he was."

Tony gestured toward Gibbs' head. "Did he think you were one of his targets, too?"

Gibbs touched the butterfly bandage on his forehead. "Let's just say, I got in his way."

Ziva returned and handed the coffee to Gibbs. He gratefully accepted it and followed when she led the way to a sitting area. "How long will he be in surgery?"

Gibbs took a long pull of his coffee before answering. "Couple of hours, at most. Doctors said the wound was relatively shallow and there shouldn't be a lot of bleeding, unless the blade nicked something vital."

"Jenson stabbed him?"

Gibbs nodded. "I called Vance and let him know about Talley. He said he'd send another team to his place to process."

"So, we just -- wait?"

Gibbs tossed the empty cup onto the seat beside him and leaned back to brace his head against the wall. "Yeah. We wait." His eyes closed, but after a moment he sat up and scrubbed his hand across his face.

"Why did Jenson attack McGee?"

Gibbs glanced at Ziva. "He thought he was one of the sons of the men who had served with his father in Desert Storm."

"If he'd already killed all seven sons, why did he think McGee was one of them?"

"Well, gee, Ziva, I don't know. Maybe going insane makes you lose your ability to count straight." Gibbs pushed away from his chair and stood abruptly. "I'm gonna see if I can find some real coffee around here."

After he'd left, Tony ventured, "He's just tired, Ziva."

Ziva nodded. "And worried about McGee. I know. My intention was not to upset him."

The Emergency Room doors swung open again and admitted Abby. Tony and Ziva stood as she hurried toward them.

"Tim? Is he --?"

"He's in surgery, Abby. He's going to be fine." Ziva intercepted her, calmly answering her questions and soothing her worries. Tony quietly slipped away.

He found Gibbs outside. The sun had set several hours ago. White light from security lights highlighted circles of color along the side of the building, painting green and gray through the black where it touched shrubbery and sidewalk. Gibbs sat at one of the benches, leaning forward, his elbows braced on his knees.

"This seat taken?" When Gibbs didn't answer, Tony quietly joined him. For once, he didn't fill the silence with empty words. He just sat there beside Gibbs. They were still sitting there in silence when Ziva came out to get them.

"The doctor's here. Tim made it through surgery fine." They followed her back into the hospital.


	11. Chapter 11

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Part Eleven ~**

The lights in the room had been muted. The usual washed out, white light of hospital rooms had been replaced with near darkness. Ducky watched Gibbs from across the room. Gibbs seemed mesmerized by the steady drip of McGee's IV line.

"He's going to be alright, Jethro."

Gibbs seemed not to hear him. "I'm requesting a transfer."

Surprised, Ducky sat up straight in his chair. "Where will you --?"

"For Tim. Back to cybercrimes."

Ducky stayed quiet for a beat, thinking. "He'll see it as a punishment."

"He got hurt because of me."

"Timothy was hurt because of his job."

"Same difference."

"No, it isn't." Impatient to make his point, Ducky stood. "Life isn't a fairy tale, Jethro. Our dreams, or nightmares, don't come true."

"Mine do." Gibbs finally turned away from the IV. "I dreamed about Kate's death, too, before she died."

Ducky shook his head sadly. "You can't blame yourself for Ari's actions. Her death was _his_ responsibility. You can't always protect them."

"But that's _my_ job!" Gibbs argued vehemently, but quietly. He turned to face Ducky. "I was so wrapped up in my dreams, in my premonitions, that I couldn't let Tim out of my sight. If he hadn't been with me --"

"Then Tony, or perhaps Ziva would have been with you. They could have been hurt, too. Or even you. Are you going to transfer your entire team?"

Gibbs leaned against the foot of the bed and crossed his arms. His stance said '_don't argue with me, I've already made up my mind'_ as clearly as if he'd voiced it. Ducky sighed. "I think you should discuss this with Timothy."

"Discuss -- what --?" The weak voice had them both at the bedside within seconds.

"Timothy? How do you feel?" Ducky held up his hand. "Wait, I'll get the doctor."

"No -- no," he swallowed and closed his eyes for a second, then turned his head and focused on Gibbs. "What -- do we need -- to discuss?"

Gibbs caught Ducky's eyes across the bed. Ducky nodded. "I think I'll go see if I can find Timothy's doctor." With last look at Gibbs that he hoped conveyed what he was thinking, he left.

Gibbs stood looking at McGee, judging his state of awareness. "How do you feel, Tim?"

McGee closed his eyes again. He seemed to be taking an internal inventory. He opened his eyes and glanced around at the various machines. "Sore, mostly. Tired."

"The doctor said you came through surgery fine. The knife didn't do any permanent damage. He said you'd be good as new within about a month."

McGee tucked his chin to his chest and moved his hand gingerly over his middle. "Guess -- I was lucky." His words scratched raw and rough out of his mouth.

"You need something to drink?"

McGee looked at him without answering. Gibbs did his best not to squirm under the scrutiny.

"Boss? -- Did I hear you -- something about -- a -- a transfer?"

Gibbs looked away. "We can talk about this later, when you're up and out of this bed."

"No." That word came out stronger and irritated McGee's throat. He coughed and curled to his side, bracing his hand against his body.

Gibbs reached to steady him. "Easy, McGee. Take it easy, now." Snagging an ice chip from a nearby container, Gibbs slipped it carefully into his mouth. "Here, this will help."

Winded McGee rolled to his back. Eyes closed, he lay still and breathed for a minute, catching his breath. "Remind me -- not to do that -- again."

Gibbs smiled. He patted McGee's shoulder then released him.

Whispering this time, McGee started again, "I -- want to talk about this -- now." He swallowed hard, then pinned Gibbs with his stare. "Why -- do you want -- to transfer me? What did I -- do wrong?"

Gibbs ran a hand roughly across his face. "Hell, McGee. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then -- why?"

"To protect you."

"From -- what? Are you going to protect Tony -- and Ziva too? Send them -- away, too?"

Gibbs stood staring at the wall. He blinked and the light seemed to glisten in his eyes. "No. It's -- I had a dream about you dying." A soft huffing laugh made him look back at McGee.

"I've had -- nightmares, too, you know."

"No, listen to me. I know what I'm doing."

"No, Boss, _you_ listen!" Sudden anger twisted McGee's face. Despite his obvious pain, he pushed against the bed and sat up.

"McGee, don't --" Gibbs reached to stop him but McGee pushed his hands away.

"Don't take this away from me -- don't send me away just to protect me." McGee sucked in a breath that sounded like a sob. Gibbs turned away, uncomfortable with his pain. _"Listen to me!"_ McGee snapped his teeth together and held his arm tightly across his body. He trembled, but waited until Gibbs looked at him. "If you -- make me leave -- you'll still worry." Exhausted, he slumped back to the bed. Swallowing, he continued in a whisper. "I just won't be -- there -- for you to -- keep your eye on."

Gibbs didn't say anything. He finally dropped his arm to his side and took a step back. An argument boiled up inside him and he listened to both sides. He didn't usually second guess himself. Once he made up his mind, that was it. But he couldn't help thinking of the few times he'd made decisions with his emotions tangled up inside him. It wasn't so much that he'd done something he wished he could take back, but that he'd done something that he wished he'd never had to do in the first place.

Would Tim be safer in Cyber Crimes? Having been a member of Gibbs' team for the past several years, he'd been exposed to a lot of criminals. Suppose one of them decided to target Gibbs' team for revenge? Would Gibbs be able to reach him in time?

Gibbs sighed. There was no denying the coherency of the group. With Tony's off the wall antics, Ziva's experience, and Tim's talents, they had more successful cases under their belt than any other team. Maybe the real reason he felt so conflicted about this was because deep down, a tiny voice was telling him that Tim was exactly where he belonged.

"You're right." He glanced up and caught the unguarded look of surprise on Tim's face. "I don't need to push you away to protect you." He moved closer and lowered his voice. "You're a part of my team, Tim. You're right where you need to be."


	12. Epilogue

**Premonition**

**By Shellie Williams**

**Warning:** spoilers for 'See No Evil', 'Probie', 'Twilight', and 'Cover Story'.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**Summary:** When Gibbs begins having nightmares, he can't shake the feeling that one of his team is in danger. Can he stop a killer before his premonitions come true?

~~*~~

**~ Epilogue ~ **

_Pausing at the door, McGee unclipped the tiny camera from his cap. He lifted it above his head, aiming it at the small window. When he saw the suspect on his hand-held screen, he gave a short laugh. "Not so tough." He reattached the camera to his cap._

"_The bigger they are, the louder they fall, McGee." Ziva's comment cracked through their earwigs._

_As McGee picked the lock he quietly corrected her. "The __**harder**__, Ziva."_

"_Get ready to move," Gibbs warned the others. He waited a beat to be sure Tony and Ziva were in position, then gave the order: "Move! Now!"_

_McGee pulled the door open. Gibbs hurried in with his weapon aimed at the suspect. McGee followed. "Freeze! Federal Agents!"_

_The suspect appeared more irritated than frightened by their entrance. "La Grenouille told you where to find me?"_

"_I said 'Freeze'," McGee repeated._

_The suspect ignored him. "You try to do a guy a favor and this is how he repays you."_

_Gibbs ordered, "Get down on the ground."_

_Instead, incredibly, the guy turned and made a run for it. McGee yelled, "Stop!" to no avail. He and Gibbs gave chase while the Director ordered over their earwigs: "Hold your fire!"_

_Tony and Ziva met them from the other end, sandwiching the suspect between the two groups._

"_Hold it!" Ziva told him._

_He stood still, arms raised, but his eyes roamed searchingly over the surrounding equipment. They all saw the gun at about the same time. _

"_Don't do it!" McGee warned while keeping his own weapon trained on the suspect._

"_I need him alive!" The Director's stern order sounded strained and on edge, even through the static of their connection._

_Unbelievably, despite being surrounded by four Federal Agents with guns, the suspect went for his weapon._

_Gunfire sounded impossibly loud in the confined space. Gibbs heard a guttural cry from McGee at about the same time the suspect was hit and fell._

_The Director's voice crackled through his earwig, but Gibbs ignored her for a moment. Instead, he watched McGee. McGee's camera lay shattered on the floor. An expression of shock sat on the young man's face. But he was alive._

Gibbs woke. He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Grabbing his watch from the side table, he read the time and smiled. He had plenty of time to take a shower, get dressed, and arrive at the hospital. Tim was being released today, and he planned on driving him home.

**The End**


End file.
